


In From The Cold

by Jenwryn



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-06
Updated: 2009-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Near turns up at Matt's place, soaked through, with a question he needs an answer to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In From The Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tierfal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tierfal/gifts).



> The setting isn't as vague, in my head, as it is here, but it would require hundreds of words to explain it, haha. Basically it's Near-as-L, somehow minus the tragedy, what? Heh. He's about nineteen, because apparently that's my favourite number for Near.
> 
> This originally began its life as comment!fic in response to something **Tierfal** said to me. :3

Not only was Near obviously freezing, but he was also busy dripping a puddle of rainwater onto the floor. Matt scrunched up his nose and mumbled something, which even he didn't quite catch, before hurrying to his tiny bathroom and returning with an oversized towel. The fluffy material was warm from having hung over his rattly old heater, and the contrast made Near's skin all the colder as Matt's knuckles brushed against it. The young detective had shuffled into Matt's flat a few minutes earlier, had made a beeline to Matt's old fireplace, had taken his shoes off, and had then just sort of made himself at home, his knees drawn to his chest for no other reason than to try and keep himself warm. Matt had planned on simply shoving the towel in Near's direction, but then the teenager shivered, a whole-body shiver that rattled Near's skin against Matt's worried fingers; a switch in Matt's brain was flicked, and he tuned into taking-care-mode.

"Stand up," he ordered shortly and, to his surprise, Near simply blinked up at him, and did as he was told.

Which was really the last straw.

"I cannot _believe_ you walked all the way from the station to here, in weather like this, dressed like that," Matt snapped, as he dried Near's hair rapidly, trying to reduce its dripping wetness down to mere dampness. He stared at Near, expecting a response. When he didn't get one, he huffed, and paused in his drying long enough to work rapidly at the buttons on Near's white top. "I can't believe they _let_ you. And haven't you ever heard of a raincoat?"

"I don't need their _permission_, Matt," Near commented, though the acidity of his tone was rather damaged by the way his voice trembled between his bluish lips. "And I wanted to see you."

"I'm sure you have my phone number, seeing as you obviously have my address," Matt grouched, refusing to let himself be sidetracked by the way Near was looking at him. "I'd have come to you at the drop of a hat, you know that." But his own voice, whether he liked it or not, was less sharp now too, as he peeled Near's shirt off of him with a damp sound. He glanced at Near for permission, then pulled the teenager's soaking trousers off as well. Dropping both items of clothing to the floor with a wet slap, Matt leant over and began to take Near's socks off; Near balanced himself against Matt's shoulder as Matt rolled the wet wool down, gently, because Near's toes were bluer than his lips were.

"I wanted to see where you live," muttered Near petulantly, above Matt's head, and Matt took a minute to rub Near's feet, with the hem of his own t-shirt, mainly because it meant he wouldn't have to see Near's expression. After a minute or two, though, he straightened up again, and continued to dry the boy down, first rubbing a little more at his rain-wet hair, and then drying off his shoulders, his back, and one arm after the other. Near moved passively as Matt worked with the towel, just like when they'd been children and Mello had gotten them caught in stupid storms that neither Matt nor Near had wanted to be outside in, in the first place, but... but it wasn't quite the same. Matt had changed, and he knew it. Near had changed too, his body lankier and stronger beneath the towel as Matt dried him. Sure, he was still a lot more childlike than Matt was but, nevertheless, somehow, he had subtly changed. It was in the shape of his face, perhaps, or the set of his shoulders where they became his upper back. Matt saw every detail, his eyes stroking where his skin dared not; he was careful to keep the towel between his hands and Near's body.

Near's shivering had begun to lessen, though it was still more pronounced than Matt would have liked. He finished drying down Near's legs, and then wrapped the huge towel around him, as if he were about to offer Near up as someone's birthday present. He told him to wait a moment (and where exactly did he think Near was planning on going to?), then went to the other side of the room to rummage around in his messy drawers, before returning with a large blue sweater with the _Tomb Raider _Scionon it. Near grinned at that, a shy, beautiful grin, and Matt had to work hard to stop his breath from catching at the sight of it. He settled for grinning as well, threw the towel on the table when Near handed it back to him, and pulled the sweater down over Near's head. Matt could feel the smoothness of Near's cold-but-dry torso beneath the sides of his hands, as he ran the sweater downwards, and it was hard to keep his movements steady. He couldn't help but brush out a crease from the front of the shirt when he was finished, his hand lingering in the middle of Near's chest for a moment too long; he felt Near's heart beat, and the younger boy coloured a sprinkling of pastel pink across his cheekbones. Near tried to make Matt meet his gaze then, but Matt refused, coughing instead, and turning away, saying, in his best detached-voice, "It's pretty long on you. If you took your undies off, you might warm up a bit faster." Matt was glad he'd turned away, then, because although he knew that what he was saying was nothing more than common sense – Near in wet clothes was just begging for a cold to be caught – his face was refusing to act as though that were the case. In fact, there was a good chance that Matt himself was going red.

Behind him, he heard Near shift from one foot to the other, and then there was the sound of wet material being moved around. Matt guessed that Near was hanging his things up over the backs of Matt's two chairs. There were a few more shifts of Near's bare feet, and then the boy walked past Matt, moving closer to the fireplace, to stand on the old rug before it. He held his hands out towards the flames. The motion tugged at the heavy weave of the sweater, raising it up at the back, so that the slight curves of Near's slender backside were just visible beneath the hem.

"I'll get you some boxers," Matt managed, and hoped his voice didn't sound quite as strangled as he suspected it did.

Near span on the spot, and grabbed Matt's arm before Matt could move.

"I wanted to see you, Matt," Near repeated, his forehead just a little creased, as though he were hovering on the edge of irritation.

Matt frowned.

"I've missed you," Near added, his eyes dark and sombre and refusing to let Matt look away. "I've missed you, since we left Wammy's. I've missed..."

Matt had told himself, uncountable times, before today, that he didn't need this. He'd told himself that whatever it was that he'd thought he'd felt at Wammy's – the warmth of Near asleep with his head on Matt's lap, the feel of Near planting innocent kisses on Matt's cheeks, the sight of Near smiling up at him alone – had been nothing more than something childish; a childish hunger for affection, that was all. He'd told himself that it wasn't even as though he were normally into guys. And, most of all, he'd told himself that there was no way of being sure that Near had even known what it was that he'd done to Matt, because Near had never seemed to need anyone, Near had never seemed to need anything at all, and—

Near released his hold on Matt, and let his hand fall limply to his side. He turned his gaze back towards the floor. He said, "I wanted to see if you'd still look at me like..." His voice tapered away to quiet, and he raised his hand to his hair and began to pull and twirl like he'd always done, when he'd been small and anxious. He turned away again, his face to the fire, his back to Matt.

Matt rubbed hard at his own face, to stop his arms from reaching out and pulling Near close.

A log on the fire popped with a small burst of red sparks.

"I told L once," Near said, his voice calm again, almost conversational, "about how much I liked it, when you kept me company. I told him that I didn't understand at all. Why you did it. Why I liked it so much. What it did to me, inside of me, to my body chemistry, when you laughed at something I said, not at me, you know, but _with_ me. When you sat too close. When you... looked at me, the way you did. I didn't understand any of it. And it worried me. A lot. I told L, told him, because I was concerned it would affect my ability to work to my full potential."

Matt was aware that he was staring at the back of Near's head, but there was nothing he could do about that. "W-what did L say?"

Near turned and looked at him again, his face pink, possibly from the heat of the fire, and his eyes devastatingly attentive. "He said that the highest emotions can be one's worst enemy, or one's most treasured ally. Hate, vengeance, they can be problematic, but they can also be used like servants to a greater cause. He – he said love can be problematic, too, but that avoiding it can be more distracting than the actual love itself. He said that emotions could be used to add drive to one's work, rather than to obstruct it. He said some things were worth the risk."

Matt rubbed at his face again.

Near looked away. "I didn't believe him."

Silence fell across the room, until Matt could hear nothing but the crackle of the fire, and the beat of his own blood moving.

"Near," he whispered, and the tone of his own voice scared him.

Near's eyes darted back up. "Do you think that L was right?"

Matt bit his lip, sighed, gave in, gave up, gave a half-laugh and moved closer to the fire. Still, he hesitated for a second, before putting one of his hands on Near's face and asking, "Is that what you really came here for? To ask me that?"

Near blushed, and looked annoyed, though whether his aggravation was directed at Matt or at himself was anyone's guess.

But he didn't pull away from Matt's hand and, when Matt shifted his thumb slightly, to rub the length of Near's jaw, Near's lashes swooped downwards, silvery against his cheeks. His own hand seemed to calm a little, too, where he'd been tugging furiously at his hair, as though Matt's touch could relax him now just as much as it had when they were children.

Matt couldn't help himself. He took a step closer, inclined his head a little, and whispered, "Yes, Near, I think L was right."

Near breathed out a jagged sigh, and peered up at Matt from beneath the shadowing of his fringe. "You do...?"

Something told Matt that they weren't simply talking about L's theories any more. He smiled, and hoped it didn't look too crooked, but he was a realist and he knew he'd just turned down a one-way street. Had done, perhaps, the moment he'd let the rain-soaked boy into his house. Had done, at the very least, the moment he'd cupped his hand to Near's face. Now his fingers tightened a little, his hand moving so that his thumb could trace along Near's bottom lip. "I do."

Near took his hand away from his hair altogether, and put it against Matt's hand instead. He ran his fingers over Matt's fingers, touching almost tentatively at Matt's knuckles. He opened his own mouth a little and swiped the tip of his tongue experimentally against Matt's thumb, and it was Matt's turn to shiver. Near's eyes widened as he felt Matt's reaction, then glanced towards his own bare feet, and he _giggled_, of all things; giggled, and spluttered out, "I feel like we just got married."

Matt laughed. He laughed, and he meant it, and it felt good to mean it, as he put his left hand on Near's face too, stroking it upwards into Near's damp hair, feeling the curls slide wetly through his fingers, his thumb snagging in a knot. He was glad the tension had dissipated. He teased, "May I kiss the bride, then?"

Near stilled, and for a terrible second Matt thought he'd made an awful mistake but, before he could apologise, two small hands had caught themselves roughly at the front of Matt's t-shirt, and Near was gazing up at him, wide-eyed and urgent. He licked at his bottom lip, as though remembering where Matt's thumb had traced, and if Matt's insides had had toes then they would have been curling in happy anticipation. Near's grip was strong, as he rose onto his toes and said, in a quiet, almost dangerous voice, "The reason I didn't have to ask anyone for permission to come here, Matt, is because I'm not a child anymore."

Matt's breath hitched once and for all. When he'd re-found it, somewhere behind his tonsils, he smiled, slow and broad and fucking delighted. He disentangled his hand from Near's hair and ran it down, down over Near's shoulder, down along the distance of Near's slender back, down to curve at the naked skin of Near's backside; Matt's fingers stroked at its softness, and Matt's thumb found a home at the slope of Near's bare hip. "I understand," Matt said, because he did, he really did, and he then he closed the distance between their mouths, and he closed the distance between their bodies.

"I want to see if L was right," Near breathed into Matt's ear, all warmth and promises, as Matt leant to kiss Near's neck. And, as Near's hands pulled Matt closer, closer, and found their way beneath Matt's clothes, all Matt knew was that he really, _really_ hoped he was...


End file.
